


A night beneath an open sky

by WeepingWilllow



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingWilllow/pseuds/WeepingWilllow
Summary: Geralt of Rivia has found himself at the end of another contract. Tired and exhausted, he is approached by a fidgety man with an urgent request. Soon after, Geralt's headaches turn into a pleasant reconnection with an old friend. A little character exploration featuring fluff and philosophy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	A night beneath an open sky

Another contract finished. Another hassle over the payment and the oh so tiresome guilt trip. Geralt understands that many families and whole villages and cities have it hard after the big wars , especially financially. But was a little honesty too much to ask? True, even Geralt reckoned he might’ve refused if the pay was too low. After all, he didn’t have it easy either. But it hits worst when the client begged on their knees and acted like Geralt would go feral after being introduced to the new terms of the fee. Sure, he could get pissed like any other person on the verge of poverty, but he had morals. Morals he would never break. And even though he insisted that he wasn’t quite human, his conscience was surprisingly just and very humane.  
He sighed as he spurred Roach on, so that they could reach the nearest settlement and settle for the cheapest grub and a slumber in the stables, amidst not-so-fresh hay. The mere thought of this loathsome fate made Geralt almost not want to go on. But he knew, that at these trying times people needed him most. Almost everywhere he stopped he spotted a notice board with relentless pleas for an expert monster killer, and locals approaching him in inns and even on the streets. So he trudged on. Slowly but surely wearing himself out. And convincing himself that it’s his destiny.  
As he expected, he hadn’t lingered long in the gloom of Dogtallow, as the locals called it the settlement , when somebody in the inn approached him. The man really seemed nervous, like he was unsure whether someone was watching his every move, glancing at the shadows and faces of the inn’s few inhabitants. Geralt took off his gloves and greeted the man with an indifferent, tired expression.  
“Whatever it is, you’ll have to wait until morning. It’s okay if you don’t have any coin, I’d appreciate a roof over my head, some straw and maybe some grub.”  
The man chuckled nervously and fidgeted with his fingers. He, in all ways possible, resembled a boy trying to remember a few verses of poetry in the front of the class. Afraid to mess up even a single syllable.  
“Good sir...eh.. I’m afraid this is a really pending matter and can’t wait until morn. You see…”  
Geralt cut him off.  
“Look, if its that bad you really should pay me in advance. If its a wraith however, or something directly affecting your wellbeing, I might consider. And if you trick me, you WILL pay. Got it?”  
The man’s face got gloomy and then lit up ,as if the boy remembered a whole line of poetry and was about to deliver it faultlessly.  
“Ah, master! But how could I have forgotten? Of course, you shall get your pay, right away in fact! Granted if you really do take care of the matter as soon as you can!”  
With a satisfying jingle he pulled a purse from his belt, a bulky one also. Geralt knew appearances can be deceiving , so he took a look in it and nearly gasped. It wasn’t regular coin, but golden orens. And a plenty. He could afford a new saddle for Roach, a nice inn...in short he would live like a king. But something was bothering him.  
“Hm..good means of convincing you have here. But, may I ask, where does this man get these means if one doesn’t, pardon me, exactly wear a new doublet and leather shoes? If one lives in god knows where? Can’t be you’ve given me your whole life savings? Even so, been a duke? A well known shoemaker? Fallen priest?  
The man clutched his leathery hat, and tried his best to look confident. Without much avail. Geralt started to fear the worst, usually this meant some thugs, witch hunters or past enemies had bribed some poor, starving local to lead him into an ambush. He suddenly wanted to send the man back where he came from , along with his gold. But he thought some more, and deduced that neither of the above would give the peasant money beforehand, since he could just as well run away.  
“The thing is,” sighed Geralt,” I’m feeling generous. And whatever is bugging you, clearly won’t let you sleep tonight. But if It’s some ambush, when I take care of the thugs, I will come after you too. You realize?”  
The man waved his hands frantically:  
“Oh, no, no, no good lord! I wouldn’t dare! It’s simply a bad case of a ghoul that has somehow gnawed Its way to my cellars. You see, all my marinated goods are stored there and my children are simply begging for something more than bread crumbs and dried berries. But the pest has made it impossible to wander there. Kind sir, you surely won’t turn down such a request.”  
The witcher rubbed his chin in pondering. Something still was amiss. If the man claimed he wanted access to some food, why not use the golden orens to feed his children as if they were lords? And then spare one last penny and a pitiful face to ask the witcher for his services? Geralt felt queasy from the road, and a bit airheaded. Vesemir would’ve scolded him for giving in to such a shady contract, but all Geralt wanted was rest, and the sooner the job was done, the better.  
Ghouls were not the easiest target, Geralt revised as they rode on to a more remote neighborhood, but as it was a cellar, the witcher would have the higher ground and be able to attack from above and possibly use an element of surprise. He also had some leftover thunderbolt and bad blood potions, to firstly, make his reflexes faster and secondly to make his blood somewhat poisonous to the creature. So that in the worst possible scenario he still would damage the ghoul’s health.  
They rode into a relatively cozy countryside hut, with a couple goats in the pasture. Still , nothing here indicating the presence of gold. A painfully dull and not at all glamorous way of life. The man looked somewhat more composed. Still, he glanced at the shadows like crazy. They dismounted and Geralt left Roach untied. In case the place was to turn into a raging inferno of slaughter, at least Roach would have the option of escape. She always returned later, since they had a bond only a grumpy and gloomy human and an exceptional and ridiculously loyal horse could have.  
A little red face peeped out of the window and smiled somewhat. Geralt presumed it was the man’s daughter. Suddenly he got overcome by longing. Longing to see Ciri again. But he knew she had to go. Go follow her destiny. Still, his heart ached. The man nodded to his wife, who soon after appeared in the little stained window. Geralt hoped it was a reassuring greeting and not a “hello , dear, you can signal the generous men to attack the freak.” But no such thing happened as they approached the cellar door- a regular hole in the ground covered by a wooden frame. The man pointed to the door with almost a smile on his face and in a somewhat cheery tone said:  
“Right, there, sir, lies my problem. You should get over it quickly m’lord it’s really just a small one.”  
Geralt looked at the man with a confused stare. Usually with monsters, his wolf pendant started to vibrate when he was approximately within a 10 m range of a beast or fiend. But this time it laid motionlessly on his chest.  
“Is this a jest?” Geralt asked, massaging his eyes and slanting himself for not being more cautious and aware of man’s occasional stupidity.  
The man stammered,  
“W...why would you think so my lord?”  
“My medallion. It usually vibrates when a monster is near. Alas, it is not even trembling a little.”  
The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish, apparently unaware how this could be so. Geralt thought for a moment.  
“Could it maybe be an angry drunkard? A wild animal? Are you sure it’s a ghoul? Have you seen one before? In books? Do you own any? That’s an oddly specific term. Almost seems a bit fabricated.”  
The man stiffened and barked:  
“Well I payed ya didn’t I? I might not know what it is, but I sure as hell know I aint going in there until an expert takes a look. How am I to know?”  
Geralt now ditched the idea about the potions. They won’t do much against a human or rabid animal.  
“Fine, I’ll take a look.” He grumbled. His medallion never failed him, but the oddness of the situation just made the bottom of his stomach sink a little. He readied his sword and unhinged the door, and descended into the darkness.  
Soon after, he heard a clank. Abandoning all stealth and good sense, he swore loudly. He knew this contract meant trouble. And he walked right into it. Vesemir was right. About a seemingly kind deed when the world really just wants you out of its gaze. It leads you to a dog shit of an end. Geralt felt his blood bubble as he banged the door, keeping an ear out for any signs of threat in the cellar.  
“You sodding bitch!” Geralt swore. The man was gone though. He could hear that. But not a single sound from the menacing blackness of the cellar.He swiftly overcame his ,albeit, panic. There was no time to rage on about the wrongdoings of the man. Granted, it might just imply that the man doesn’t trust Geralt on finishing the job. But the option of an ambush was still a possibility. He pricked up his ears - but there was not a single sound betraying presence of man, but Geralt knew that no matter how agile, all people emit unconscious sounds, breathing at least. Something itched at his nose, but he did not yet know what.  
He descended from the stairs and scanned the environment. For a regular person, it would be a menacing pitch black nothingness, where the slightest tap or creak could scare one to the core. But Geralt’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and instead what he saw was a regular, yet somewhat spacious cellar. The ground was cold concrete, and the drippy walls of the chamber provided excellent acoustics and his own footsteps rang in his ears. He proceeded cautiously, sword ready in a firm grip. He had reached almost the far end of the cellar, when at the corner of his eye, he felt something brush past. He turned swiftly. His nose started itching again, but it was not from irritation. It was something… familiar.  
Before he could ponder on this any further, he felt a similar swoosh. This time it came his way. He was like a wound spring, his hair stood on end feeling a presence. Then, something touched his shoulder in a firm grip. Geralt didn’t even need to think. He reacted like lightning, with moves that had saved his life many a time. But the apparition was gone, leaving a trail of black smoke again. Geralt felt it materialise once again far behind him. But he didn’t spring into action this time. He threw his head back and laughed heartily.  
The gears had shifted into place in his head. The medallion...the smell of anise wormwood and coriander... the elusive fog. He was relieved. And soon after, all in one irritated and amused. He turned around, sprinted to where the apparition-now a man- was standing and pointed the tip of his sword towards the bottom of the man’s chin.  
“Regis, you old fool!” growled Geralt, but with a smirk on his face, not at all aligned with his seemingly angry expression.  
Regis just smiled, looking deep into Geralt’s eyes , seemingly unaware of the sword pointed at his throat.  
“What, daresay are you doing here? And pranking me oh, so horribly? I always thought that was Dandelion’s speciality. You one for jests?”  
Regis smiled even wider, and reached out behind him, where he had navigated a bottle of what he presumed, was hooch.  
“Just this once. And the reason? Do I need a reason to treat my dear friend to a bottle of…”  
He squinted and tried to read the scribbling on the label, that was peeling off and fading.  
“Cheut….de….oh, whatever. Hooch is hooch.” He sniffed the lid.  
“Probably some apple wine the fellow upstairs made. Nothing exquisite but it will do.”  
Geralt still held the tip of his sword against Regis’ throat. His eyes shone , but the traces of weariness became more prominent. He shook his head,  
“I appreciate the sentiment. But some dull apple wine? I’ll need something stronger after that scare. You couldn’t help it but amuse me in the process, huh? And where, pray, are we to indulge? In this cold, damp pit? I thought you were more well...dignified than this?”  
Regis laughed and pushed the blade away with his forearm. He looked just like Geralt remembered, tough they hadn’t met for multiple years. Somewhat scrawny, like an old scholar. Wearing his alchemist’s clothes, masquerading as a peasant. Truth be told, he had the means to rule the world if he wanted. But unlike many vampires, he was determined not to hurt any human being. Except for the occasional casualties needed for a bigger purpose.  
“I was just jesting. Might be a bad habit I picked up from Dandelion. How is the poor lad? All well I hope?”  
Geralt dropped his arm, and hunger and fatigue made him impatient.  
“Yeah, yeah. But you’ll need to bribe me to get some more news. I’m starving.”  
Regis nodded.  
“Understandable, I was just kidding about the Chateau De Apple Feces .”He threw away the bottle, carelessly. Surprisingly it did not shatter. Nor did the liquid inside move. Suddenly he started to revolt the idea of tasting the...substance.  
“I wouldn’t treat my friend, who I haven’t seen in years to a bottle of shady substances from some poor , cowardly man. I’ve got something nice for you, if you’ll just follow me upstairs.”  
Geralt tilted his head,  
“And how, oh mister generous vampire, are we going to leave? Don’t forget your patron locked us in.”  
Regis frowned,  
“Yes, I must admit, I didn’t expect the man to do you so dirty .Can you imagine, I thought he had morals! I paid him some extra coin so he could live like a count! And he did us both dirty, no doubt imagining we’ll devour each other in here and perish. So he could get even more coin.” He shook his head and smiled once again quite maliciously ,  
“Good thing I have a talent of creeping through tight spaces. Come now, Geralt!”  
They went up the stairs and Regis ,assuming the form of a black cloud of smoke, wriggled through the framing of the wooden door. Soon, came a clank and he offered Geralt a helping hand. He accepted it. Sure, the vampire had just done him dirty, but seeing him made Geralt feel at home, and inexplicably happy. He wouldn't let Regis know, naturally. Had to put up a sour face so that he can have somewhat of a revenge.  
They peeped into the window. The man was sitting by the table, conversing with his wife. Both Geralt and Regis had heightened hearing, so they decided to eavesdrop a little.  
“...Tilly, I told ye, this plan is foolproof!”  
The man’s wife seemed sceptical, sitting tenseley at the end of her chair and hugging her daughter's head.  
“But you don’t know that. The generous gentleman gave me goosebumps. I don't reckon anything’ good can come of this. Have ye no fear of the heavens’ wrath? Do ye have no love for our lass? What if the fiends waltz back and slaughter us? I don't reckon anyone would gladly give such peasant folk like us here such riches.”  
“Keep calm, woman, you’re worryin the child. Look how she’s tremblin’ . I tell ya, it’ll be over in no time and neither of them will get out. I bolted the door with a silver lock. That ought to scare off any devil or demon.”  
Regis quietly snickered.  
“How typical to generalise and harbor such superstitions. In fact, we vampires have actively spread these myths just so people have a false sense of safety whilst not harming us at all. Here comes the centuries old dilemma of…”Geralt cut his friend off.  
“Here you go, lecturing again,you mutt.”  
They started to listen again, as the man spoke.  
“It’s clear as day, ain't it? Even if he intends well, he is a freak. An oddball that doesn’t even differ from the beasts he slays. If ya ask me all he deserves is a broomstick to the arse. The worst thing is that he scares decent people like us. How are we to trust a man who aint no man at all?” Regis audibly cracked his knuckles.  
“All right,” he said in a slightly raised voice,” the man clearly deserves a broomstick to HIS arse. How about a little scare?” But just as Regis was about to dematerialise, Geralt caught him by the shoulder.  
“Wait, sure , the man is a pretentious prick led on by fear. But think of the girl. She will have traumatic memories throughout her life. And I..I..”  
Regis, now calmed, turned to Geralt,  
“I know precisely what you’re talking about , and I apologise. I was too hasty. Let’s just leave then, shall we?  
Geralt shook his head.  
“This might surprise you, but I want to see the girl.”  
“Geralt, that is not Ciri. You can’t bother every little girl with nostalgia and disturb their conscience.”  
“That is not the reason. I think she deserves a change of perspective.”  
Regis sighed,  
“Go on, do what you have to. I’ll be here, waiting.”  
Geralt nodded, and went into the hut.  
The man and the woman both leapt to their feet, clearly shaken. Geralt tried to calm them, putting his hands in the air.  
“It’s okay, I’m not here to get revenge. Just saying that the job is done.”  
The man raised his eyebrows, clearly greatly impressed. And hoping Geralt had genuinely forgotten him for the trap door incident.  
“Noble sir! We thank you greatly! But now I must welcome you to leave us. We’re sorry but only good folk can stay here. As you well see, we have a little lass with us. So have mercy!”  
Geralt shook his head,  
“Do not fear, I’m about to leave. Just one last thing.”  
He kneeled and looked in the eyes of the little girl, who was still clutching her mother’s thigh.  
“What’s your name, girl?”  
The mother was about to protest , but the girl muttered  
“...Hilde, good sir”  
Geralt smiled at the girl’s politeness. But she only clutched her mother’s hem tighter. The witcher was starting to have second thoughts. What if he only made things worse by coming back? He reached into his pocket. And took out a golden oren, presenting it to the girl with an outstretched hand.  
“Is that some kind of bribe? You’ve outstayed your welcome, Witcher, so leave. Bring no more hawoc to this house. And leave my daughter alone.”  
Geralt suddenly felt stupid. An outright idiot. That was not kindness. That was a nostalgia of a delusional man. He got up, placed the oren on the table , tipped his head and left. Without looking back.  
Regis, naturally had heard everything.  
“You know, often people can be generous out of selfishness. But it also indicates that we are human. And sometimes, selfish acts are needed. For survival.” He smiled. Geralt nodded his head.  
“You’re right, Regis. You always are. Even before. Should’ve listened to you…”  
Regis hugged Geralt’s slouched shoulders,  
“Chin up! I am about to embrace you in a selfish act of my own. But something tells me this one will be accepted.”  
Geralt snickered,  
“Better yet. I demand it, I’m too tired. Lead the way.”  
They arrived at a beautiful clearing, in the embrace of beautiful birch trees. There was a bonfire, some oak logs, and a bundle of goods. The setting sun made everything glow like honey dew. Just as warm and comely as Regis’ presence, Geralt thought, but did not say out loud.  
“Take a seat, Geralt, and let me be your maitre d’ for the evening.”  
Geralt did like he was told, without hesitation. The setting was humble, but something tugged bittersweetly at his heartstrings. The pieces fell into place, painting a clear picture of the past.  
“Regis, this feels like the good old times. You know, when we were all together, on a noble quest.” He placed his head in his hands.  
“And now, we’re all alone, like wandering rubble of our old selves. Drifting the world aimlessly. Ciri is saved and now she needs no saving. At least from us.”  
Regis handed him a glass of wine.  
“My dear fellow, there is no point in lingering miserably in the past. And not having a direction doesn’t mean one won’t show up sooner or later. You can’t let the past weigh your heart down. Here, take a drink. Feel any better?”  
Geralt took a sip and accepted the breadsticks Regis passed him, also preparing to roast some ham above the fireplace.  
Geralt nodded.  
“Better.”  
“Great! Now that we’re by nature you should find it easier to just be yourself and complain, and eventually- realise that underneath all that you are fine and well. The lack of a smile is bad for your face muscles. You’ll end up with soggy cheeks.” Geralt snorted.  
“And with that shitload of optimism your eyes are going to pop out of your head!”  
“I’m not an optimist, I’m a hopeful realist. Once you know as much as I do, you’ll realise that hope is the only thing saving a conscious being from peril.”  
“There you go again, acting the part of the know it all. I know my fare share too and I say hopes can only be let down. Most times.”  
Regis threw an olive right at Geralt’s face, hitting him in the eye.He swore.  
“Imbecile. That’s your empty stomach talking. The world isn’t just suffering you know. You just gotta look forward to the next supper.”  
They dug in.Regis had prepared quite a small feast.They had bread, butter with garlic and timian, olives, tomatoes, smoked sausages with cheese, and roasted ham, and to top it all off- some of Regis’ favourite wines.Geralt had to admit, the man had good taste. Though he would’ve preferred something stronger.By voicing this complaint, Regis presented him with some homemade vodka.  
“You really like wine, don’t you?” Asked Geralt,  
“Why is that?”  
“Hmm...suppose it has something to do with the consistency. As a vampire, I can’t help it but like it out of the sheer association to..you know. But with a fair share of water and much inferior in taste. I guess in that sense I’m no better than a recovering alcoholic. It reminds me of my past addictions, so I have formed a new, less harmful one.”  
“I don’t get it.”Geralt said,  
“How can someone live life and not indulge in their deepest urges?”  
Regis stared into his wine glass, shimmering a deep red.  
“You know, It’s kind of what I learned from humans, ironically. You abandon your animalistic nature in favour of civilization. If you didn’t chaos would reign. Sure, some people unleash this inner horror and kill, rape and abuse. But through years and years of evolution you have learned constraint and dignity, in spite of selfishness. Out of love and respect. And you channel that chaotic energy into something beautiful and harmless. I put my energy into other things, and out of love and respect, actually, we’re not at each other’s throats right now.”  
“Implying that by nature we’re so horrible? Maybe that is a side product of this so called, evolution?”  
“Don’t know, haven’t experienced it” Laughed Regis.  
“Me neither,” said Geralt and yawned.The sun was setting, tinging the horizon a deep red, with tinges of orange and clouds with shining underbellies.  
“Isn’t it beautiful?”Asked Regis.  
“I can’t feel anything, really. Mutations, remember?”  
Regis just shook his head.  
“Ah, pulling the “no emotions” card. You do know that that’s not going to fool me? The only thing you might be feeling is the lack of an aesthetic enjoyment. And I don’t blame you.It’s hard to appreciate what treasures are in your face everyday. You should see the world I come from. Then you’d weep at seeing a sight like this. Your denial of emotions is just you blocking off the whole world so that you’d appear neutral. So that when hate and prejudice flies your way you could convince yourself you don’t feel it and experience hurt. But you do.”  
“Sentimality was never my thing.” Geralt said bluntly.  
“It’s not sentiment, it’s emotion. And what you’re doing is unhealthy.”  
“It’s also unhealthy to live for killing. I shouldn’t afford the luxury of your false sympathy.”  
“Oh, I never intended on offending you so, for sympathy is the highest form of mockery. Call me selfish, but I want to understand you. And you were born to love, as is your right as a human, and be loved.”  
“How am I supposed to know how to love? I’m just a tool.Maybe a long time ago I used to know what it truly meant. But now I can’t afford to.”  
A lengthy silence fell. Then Regis continued.  
“Is that what they taught you at Kaer Mohren?”  
“That’s what I taught myself. We all did. Anyone you get attached to might die, and if that happens during a fight, you will soon follow if you waste time on reacting. And later on it can cloud your better judgement in dire situations. There’s allies but there is no family. I only felt what that word meant when I took in Ciri, and even then she proved herself much more knowing and instinctive in terms of trust and affection. “  
Regis looked at Geralt, but he had lowered his head, avoiding the vampire’s gaze.  
“You know, you’re not half bad at it. I think all of them- Ciri, Yennefer and others have helped you to wander in the right track. And… Geralt?”  
He raised his head. And the vampire, with a genuine expression, not expressing either exaggerated sympathy or loathing, said  
“ I’m sorry. About what you’ve gone through.”  
Geralt looked up, seemingly at the stars. In truth he was trying to suppress an itching in his ever so watering eyes.Regis saw that and smiled bitterly. The witcher, no , Geralt had never heard anyone say those simple words. Most people tried to astrange from such a fate, losing all hope of humanity in a person like that or simply didn’t understand or didn’t want to. Some even pitied him and unacknowledged his past and pressed him to forget or change the subject.  
“Such is the fate of the individuals estranged from society.”Regis started, as if reading Geralt’s thoughts.  
“Common experience is what makes it easy to connect. A different one revolts and raises distrust. That’s a common trope not only in humans. That’s what helps distinguish the “us” form the “them”. You stepped that border twice- the first as a homeless orphan and the second when your body was invaded by genomes from other beastly creatures.And now, you’re stuck in between. Fighting monsters and being treated as one.”  
“In that sense you don’t differ from me. But instead of being yourself you have to put up an act. I’ve also wondered why you do this. And as a surgeon you choose to heal beings lesser than you. Who, as you know, would never accept you for who you are.”  
Regis took a sip of wine and threw a stick he had fiddled with in the fire. Sparks flew and spirelled upwards, dancing and becoming one with the stars.  
“But there is a difference. A very crucial one my friend. You were born on this earth to love and nurture. I was born elsewhere, led here to kill and destroy. And I have been successful to do so. The worst part is… I’m going to be completely honest with you. Even now, if I were to kill a person, I wouldn’t feel regret. At least at first. It comes as a joy to me. So I end up unintentionally doing false favours, out of false emotions and false hunches of what is right. I really am envious of you, Geralt.”  
Geralt felt a surge of anger within him and combined with the wine it made his face flush. Geralt was never a man of words, like Regis was, but he was a man of action. He sluggishly got up, walked over and hugged his friend. Squeezed him, really.  
“You fucking harlot! How stupid do you have to be to envy me when all you can think of is care. Don’t make me go all fluffy with you, that’s your job.”  
Regis struggled to breathe and managed to wheeze out:  
“Fluffy? Excuse me Geralt but the point is that I’m pointy. And now let me breathe… so I don’t have to bite your arm off. And your… irresistibly rushing pulse is not working in your favor either.”  
Geralt let go, reluctantly, and fell backwards, planting his head upwards.  
“The point IS that you think that way cuz you’re only looking outwards from that overcrowded brain of yours. You idealise me, but forbid to give yourself some credit. Truth be told, I think we’re both assholes. And fucked up ones at that. But hell, we deserve each other’s company then.”  
Regis joined Geralt in his stargazing.  
“ A delusional vampire and a hopelessly determined monster hunter. A match made in hell, really.”  
“You can say that again, “ laughed Geralt.  
“Look, that’s the manticore constellation. It is a combination of....”  
“Hey, hey, “ Geralt interrupted, “ I’m tired of monsters and killing them, and talking about them, so let’s just chat. About our lives, you know. I really want to know how you’ve been.”  
Regis frowned.  
“You do realise that is a contradiction.”  
“I don’t,” Geralt said bluntly, “ In fact, there are parts of you I don’t know at all.”  
“Those are parts not worth knowing…”  
“There’s no such thing. After all you have said to be human means to be horrid at certain times. You contradict yourself all the time.”  
“I must be losing my mind then,” Regis said dryly and turned his head the opposite direction. Geralt was about to reach out for his shoulder, but hesitated. He ought to give the vampire some space. Maybe he was trying to prune him open too harshly. But as he was about to drop the subject, Regis interrupted the ever growing silence,  
“Do you really want to know? Or are you trying to be understanding?”  
Geralt scrunched his eyebrows.  
“I want to know, wether you know what it means to be unforgivable. Do you really feel that way. Because if you do… then I will feel less alone.”  
“...Trust me , Geralt, you aren't. And you don’t need scum like me to confirm that. But… I’ve already confessed. There’s nothing much to it. You know the story- I used to prowl about and kill people for sport. When finally my karma caught up to me.”  
“I’m sorry for making you remember…”Geralt said.  
Regis laughed bitterly.  
“Really, there is not a single moment when I forget. Except maybe… when I’m ...enjoying myself…. with some good company for example.”  
“I want to stay like this for longer. Just, is forever too much to ask? Because I feel the same, my friend.”Geralt admitted, getting up and extending a hand towards Regis.  
“Alright. Let’s get another drink. Towards eternity.”  
Regis smiled, reminding Geralt of a mischievous wild animal.  
“Might as well stay down here. Wanna join me?”  
Geralt tilted his head,  
“Care to explain, why are you so eager to stay sober at a time like this?”  
“Oh nothing.” The vampire shook his head, “It’s just that we’re out of booze.”  
Geralt dropped to his knees and rubbed his eyes.  
“Oh come on!”  
Regis got up and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder.  
“Hey! I promised a fun evening didn’t I? What do you say about a nightly hunt?”


End file.
